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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28672779">vistas through the shutters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rationallydelusional/pseuds/rationallydelusional'>rationallydelusional</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band), WAYV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Honestly don't know where I'm going with this one yet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:27:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28672779</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rationallydelusional/pseuds/rationallydelusional</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>oneshots (or not?) involving NCT members.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>n/a</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>vistas through the shutters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>'How much is he?' </p><p>All the boys were Disney princesses. </p><p>On today’s catalogue: a Mulan with a warrior's topknot, sauntering around the room with a plastic sword in the scabbard slung around her left hip; a Cinderella tip-toeing daintily in heels, her man-arms bursting out of her ballgown sleeves; a Rapunzel twirling animatedly in her golden dress; and finally, an Alice of Wonderland fame -- an arresting sight, with her pale glow-in-the-dark skin and fake blonde hair, probably the best wig in stock at a gimmicky costume store. </p><p>Alice’s face was familiar. Even if it wasn't a face she was acquainted with, Ina would have herself believe that she had seen those features before. Her- No, his eyes -- asymmetrical, the right one lidded; the left, a faint line that never folded in around the corner to form a full double eyelid.</p><p>The bouncer stared her up and down. 'He ain't fo sale. We don't sell to no women,' he warned, gruffly. His eyebrows, thick and unkempt, and a half-centimetre away from becoming a unibrow, made her think of a 'not for sale' sign printed in bold, black lettering.</p><p>She looked at the beautiful boy cross-dressed as Alice again, with more defiance than desire. </p><p>'I'm sure...' she persisted, ‘an exception can be made with some negotiation.' This pushiness was new to her.</p><p>'Alice o’er here be one o' our premium boys,' the bouncer scoffed. 'Ya think we jus gon hand our best meat to ya like dat? And who the fuck ya be anyway? Comin' here all big and shit, askin’ the best we got? Ya some rich daddy's girl? Cos ya don't look it. C'mon, get the fuck out o’ here.’</p><p>Ina wasn't built like a fair maiden of the woods. Still, the bouncer was at least two times her height and three times her width. But it was now or never, do or die, and with that conviction, she threw herself past him and onto the front of the club. This caught the attention of the Disney princesses. Alice included. Until then, they had been poised waitresses, pouring drinks and entertaining guests in the room.</p><p>He yanked her by the shoulders and threw her to the ground, spitting hard in her face. 'I warned ya,' he said, turning his back to her. She stood up and attempted to pass again. He kneed her in the stomach and she lay for some time on the ground, writhing in pain. She reached out with a trembling hand and cupped his ankle. He stepped on her wrist. A crunch. A worn-out boot in her face. Another crunch. She was ready to walk out of this with a ruined face and body. Typically, she would retreat, shoulders slumped, body hunched into her coat, eyes downcast. But she was charged with something different now. </p><p>When did it start? On Monday? She mentally referred to it as The Possession. Life, or rather a zest for it, had infiltrated her system. She realized two things: One, she could, in that moment, take all the hurt the world was ready to throw at her because she was excited about all the life that awaited her. Two, she was making a fool of herself. How humiliating, to be rejected and beaten down this way. </p><p>She watched, lying down, as an arm reached over her, landing on the bouncer’s shoulder. ‘Stop, please. You’ll kill her.’ A soft male voice. It’s Alice. She looked up at the halo of fuzzy light above the princess’ face, pleading and earnest, yet assertive. ‘Just throw her out. Let’s not get the club in trouble.’</p><p>So Ina found herself outside the club at 4am, patting her wounds and bloodied nose.</p><p>‘Were you looking for me?’ asked Alice, unsmiling, now off-duty and with no need to play nice. A couple of drunk men stumbling out of the establishment across the street whistled at the princess. ‘Why?’</p><p>Ina stretched a hand out. ‘I’m Ina. I saw you and thought: We knew each other in a past life, maybe. You are?'</p><p>‘Not in the mood for jokes.'</p><p>‘I’m not much of a joker, I’m afraid,’ she said, raising the right corner of her lip into a smirk.</p><p>Alice folded her arms — signalling a refusal of the handshake — and, after a long pause, said, ‘Louis’.</p><p>'Liar. Didn’t they call you Ten in another life?’</p>
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